I was recently listening to a podcast where Abigail Shrier, an American psychologist and author of Bad Therapy: Why Kids Aren’t Growing Up, shared her approach to parenting. She explained that when making a parenting decision, she doesn’t ask, Will this make my kids happy? Instead, she asks, Will this make them strong?
Her extensive research has shown that when children are constantly monitored by their parents in a culture of dependence and over-intervention, they fail to develop the life skills necessary for independence, resilience, and problem-solving. When we intervene in every aspect of our children's lives, ‘rescuing’ them from any adversity, we hinder their growth rather than strengthen it.
Donald Winnicott, the renowned British paediatrician and psychoanalyst of childhood development, aligns with Shrier’s theory. He argues that children mature by passing through three stages: Absolute Dependence, Relative Dependence, and Toward Independence. In the second stage, Relative Dependence, it is the parent’s responsibility to disillusion the child of their perceived omnipotence. The child must learn to become an independent entity, responsible for their own actions and sense of self.
In this week’s parsha, we can hear God asking the very question Abigail Shrier poses: Will this make the Israelites happy or strong?
Mirroring Winnicott’s developmental stages, the story begins with the dramatic crossing of the Red Sea. Like an infant awaiting rescue, the Israelites stand helpless, expecting salvation. Moshe reassures them: “Fear not, stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord.” At this stage, they are entirely dependent—passive recipients of Divine intervention, in the first stage of development: absolute dependence. Here, God, like a parent, responds by making them happy, providing immediate salvation.
Yet by the parsha’s end, we see a stark contrast. Once again, the Israelites face an existential threat—an enemy closing in. But this time, there is no miraculous intervention. God does not fight the battle for them; they must fight for themselves. With Yehoshua leading, they take their first steps toward independence. Now, God responds as a parent who recognizes the child’s need to grow—not by saving them, but by strengthening them.
If we follow Winnicott’s model, however, something is missing. Between passive salvation and active responsibility lies an essential intermediary stage—disillusionment, or relative independence. I believe this stage unfolds in two key moments, nestled between the Red Sea and the battlefield, preparing them for a future in which they must stand on their own: The Women’s song at the Red sea and the people’s cry that precedes their battle with Amalek.
Miriam’s song at the sea stands in stark contrast to Moshe’s. The men’s song begins: “Then sang Moses and the children of Israel this song unto the Lord, and spoke, saying...” (Shemot 15:1). The Talmud (Sotah 30b) picks up on the phrase “וַיֹּאמְרוּ, לֵאמֹר”—a seeming redundancy. Rabbi Akiva explains that the people responded like children repeating a lesson, echoing Moshe’s words word for word.
The women’s song, however, is different:
"And Miriam the prophetess, the sister of Aaron, took a timbrel in her hand, and all the women went out after her with timbrels and dances. And Miriam responded to them..." (Shemot 15:20-21).
The key word here is וַתַּעַן—"and she responded." Unlike the men, who wait passively for Moshe to lead, the women initiate their own song. Miriam does not direct them; she answers them. Here, the women model a different kind of selfhood—one rooted in initiative, agency, hope, and gratitude.
Moshe sings, the men follow. The women sing, Miriam responds. They have stepped into leadership, found their own voices, and used them to celebrate redemption. Their independence is forged in the preceding chapters, where human agency emerges in response to Divine hiddenness and human suffering. They have learnt to be strong and in turn, to be happy. In Winnicott’s terms the men remain in the stage of dependence, while the women have already moved toward the stage of interdependence, or as the Bible might call it - covenant. This shift is crucial to understanding what follows: the nation’s complaints and their confrontation with Amalek.
Towards the end of the parsha, the people once again cry out in distress: “We have no water to drink!” They add, הֲיֵשׁ ה׳ בְּקִרְבֵּנוּ, אִם-אָיִן—commonly translated as “Is the Lord among us or not?” A more literal reading, however, suggests something deeper: “Is God within us, or are we nothing?” (See Bereshit 18:12: וַתִּצְחַק שָׂרָה, בְּקִרְבָּהּ – “And Sarah laughed within herself”).
This cry reflects the transitional moment Winnicott describes—moving from dependence to independence, from omnipotence to limitation, both human and Divine. The people are not just questioning God; they are questioning themselves. Can they exist without open miracles? Can they survive without constant revelation? Are they nothing without God’s authority, just as an infant in absolute dependence is inseparable from its mother?
By forcing them to fight for themselves, God teaches that faith is not defined by supernatural intervention but by human strength and responsibility. As Rabbi Sacks so often reminded us, “It is less about our belief in God than about His belief in us.”
And so, God, the quintessential parent, does what every good parent should do: He asks, “What will make them strong? How can I show them that they possess the power within themselves to redeem their situation, to face adversity with courage?”
For Winnicott, this is the stage of disillusionment—the moment when the parent defines the boundaries between themselves and the child. Like every good parent, God does not abandon His people. Instead, He reassures them: "I am with you, but to mature and move toward independence, you must learn to fight your own battles." They must fight Amalek—the embodiment of godlessness—not by waiting for Divine intervention, but by forging a covenant with God while fighting the battle themselves. Moshe stands atop the mountain, his hands raised toward heaven, while Yehoshua and the people engage in combat below. The text describes Moshe’s hands as וַיְהִי יָדָיו אֱמוּנָה—often translated as “hands of faith,” but more accurately, hands of loyalty, trust and faithfulness.
The Mishnah in Rosh Hashanah explains that victory did not come from Moshe’s hands alone, but from the people’s mindset. When they lifted their eyes toward heaven—aligning their intention and partnership with God—they prevailed. When they lost that focus, they faltered.
The message is clear: overcoming our enemies requires both faith in God’s presence and the courage to act, trusting that even when His omnipotence is not visibly manifest, He is still with us and within us.
Despite their battle against Amalek, the people are not yet ready for moving beyond the miracles. Like children still in the early stages of development, they are too young, too dependent, and the paradigm modeled by the women has not yet permeated the nation as a whole. They will need forty years in the desert before they can fully take the reins from God.
Abigail Shrier argues that our role as parents is not to make children happy but strong, preparing them to face adversity. Winnicott’s three stages—dependence, relative dependence, and interdependence—offers a framework not just for childhood but for the national aspiration and ultimate goal: a people who, rather than passively awaiting salvation, actively choose to partner with God in shaping their own future. Something I have thought about a lot recently is which paradigm we embody today—are we still waiting for salvation, or have we stepped into the responsibility of covenantal partnership? I would like to believe it is the latter.
Shabbat shalom
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